《Stories by Doris Lessing》第8章

taramasalata　and　the　retsina　and　all　that　stuff　they　had　right　here　in　london　but　of　the　sun　on　the　dark…blue　sea　and　the　hot　rocks　and　the　olive　trees　and　the　singing。　often　when　the　two　greeks　talked　together　tom　and　mary—neither　knew　more　than　a　few　words　of　greek—exchanged　smiles　acknowledging　that　these　people　they　had　married　were　sometimes　strangers　to　them。
mary　did　not　speak　to　demetrios　that　night　when　he　came　in；　as　usual；　late；　well　after　midnight；　but　she　sat　up　in　bed　and　stared　at　him　while　he　stumbled　around　the　room　and　swore　and　discarded　his　clothes　anyhow　and　then　flung　himself　on　the　bed　with　his　back　to　her。　she　longed　to　put　her　arms　around　him　from　behind　and　do　what　he　loved　her　to；　which　was　nibble　his　ear　and　then　kiss　and　bite　his　neck。　the　first　time　she　did　this　it　had　been　like　jumping　over　a　fence　into　the　dark　because　she　was　taking　the　initiative；　which　she　had　not　done—she　liked　being　the　one　who　said　yes—and　there　was　at　once　a　storm　of　sex。　but　there　wasn’t　always：　i’m　not　going　to　let　you　take　me　for　granted；　said　dmitri；　teasing　her—she　thought；　but　then　saw　this　was　his　delicacy　again；　for　he　was　sensitive；　surprising　her；　when　you’d　think　he　was　just　a　big　rough　noisy　man。　he　knew　she　would　be　shy；　afraid　he　would　think　she　was　asking　for　sex　instead　of　sometimes　just　a　cuddle；　and　that　was　why　he　kept　her　guessing。　she　had　seen　helen　giving　tom　little　touches　and　strokes　that　put　a　look　of　wonder　and　astonishment　on　his　face；　and　she　had　tried　them　out　on　dmitri—without　helen　she　would　never　have　thought　of　doing　anything　like　that。　now　she　lay　beside　dmitri；　rigid；　and　she　was　thinking　that　one　night　it　was　easy　to　put　one’s　arms　around　one’s　husband　and　then　be　happy　till　morning；　and　the　next　night　it　was　impossible　to　put　a　hand　to　touch　him；　let　alone　kisses　and　nibbles。
she　kept　the　silence　going　all　night；　for　she　did　not　sleep；　and　next　morning　through　breakfast。　and　now　she　was　frightened。　she　sat　staring　at　him　while　he　averted　his　eyes　but　sometimes　glanced　at　her　in　wonderment；　in　anger；　and　in　fear。　but　as　well　as　being　scared　she　was　dissatisfied；　and　her　dissatisfaction　with　everything　and　with　him；　like　an　accusation　of　him；　was　stronger　every　minute；　because　what　she　was　doing　was　feeding　it。　he　should　be　well；　he　should　be　kissing　her　hands　and　covering　them　with　tears　and　saying　he　was　sorry。
that　night　she　was　careful　to　seem　asleep　when　he　came　in　from　the　restaurant。　perhaps　he　will　kiss　me；　she　thought：　he　often　did；　when　she　was　asleep。　she　would　put　up　her　arms　and　pull　him　down　into　her。　but　he　didn’t　kiss　her。
next　morning　at　breakfast　she　could　see　herself　sitting　there；　with　her　staring　face　like　a　radar　dish　following　him　around　the　room。　he　was　not　looking　at　her；　though。　she　thought；　he’s　stupid。　just　because　i　haven’t　got　a　smile　on　my　face　and　i’m　not　speaking—but　i’m　just　the　same　inside；　aren’t　i？　meanwhile　he　was　stumbling　about　and　knocking　into　things。　he　looked　as　if　she　had　put　a　curse　on　him。　he　left　his　coffee　and　banged　straight　out。　next　morning　she　woke　before　he　did；　and　was　about　to　slide　quietly　out　of　bed　so　as　not　to　have　to　“put　on　the　performance；”　which　was　how　she　was　now　thinking　of　it；　but　he　sat　straight　up　in　bed　and　she　adjusted　her　face　so　that　she　was　staring　at　him　over　the　edge　of　the　duvet。　he　let　out　a　shout；　as　if　he　had　had　a　nightmare；　and　then　he　began　to　sob；　“you’re　a　cruel　woman；　mary。　you’re　a　cruel　hard　woman。”　that　night　he　sighed　in　his　sleep　and　groaned　and　shouted　out　what　sounded　like　imprecations　in　greek。　it　frightened　her。　he　could　kill　me；　she　thought；　and；　no；　she　wasn’t　anywhere　near　being　thrilled　but　decided；　i’ll　stop　it。　it’s　enough。　but　she　couldn’t　stop。　an　implacable　accusing　stare　had　fastened　itself　on　her　face。　and　she　thought；　but　i　started　it　all　for　a　good　reason；　didn’t　i？
and　the　days　passed。　on　an　evening　when　the　four　were　together　mary　hoped　the　others　would　not　notice　that　she　was　ignoring　demetrios　and　that　he　was　doing　anything　to　avoid　looking　at　her。　but　helen　noticed；　all　right。
next　day　mary　asked　helen；　“how　long　do　you　go　on　with　it？”
“i’ve　never　kept　it　up　longer　than　a　day。　well；　i　love　him；　don’t　i？”　she　sounded　a　bit　evasive。
it　was　now　three　weeks　since　mary　had　begun　the　treatment。　she　was　in　a　frenzy　of　panic；　and　did　not　go　out　at　all　but　sat　weeping；　and　then　sat　silent；　staring；　not　at　dmitri；　for　he　was　not　there；　but　at　the　wall。　she　did　not　know　what　was　happening；　but　it　was　terrible。　had　she　lost　her　husband？　he　was　not　ing　in　till　very　late；　because　he　had　been　drinking。　when　he　did　he　stumbled　around　the　room　swearing　at　her—in　greek。　then　one　night　he　didn’t　e　home。
“what’s　going　on　with　you　and　dmitri？”　asks　tom；　meeting　mary　in　the　street。　“are　you　having　a　quarrel？”
“nothing　like　that；”　mary　says　smiling；　while　she　feels　her　life　is　falling　apart。
in　bed　that　night　she　put　her　arms　around　her　drunk　husband；　from　behind；　and　nuzzled　up　and　said；　“e　on；　dmitri；　don’t　sulk。”　“go　to　hell！”　he　shouted；　and　blubbered　noisily；　in　a　way　that　made　her　hate　him；　and　then　he　suddenly　fell　asleep。　in　the　morning　she　was　up　and　out　of　bed　and　laid　the　breakfast；　and　when　he　came　out　of　the　bathroom；　already　putting　on　his　jacket　to　go　out；　she　held　him　at　the　door　and　said；　“i’ve　got　a　nice　breakfast　for　you。”
at　which　he　laughed；　but　it　was　like　a　bark；　and　he　shook　his　finger　at　her　in　clumsy　sarcasm　and　said；　“you’re　talking。　you　don’t　use　words　to　me；　so　shut　up；　i　don’t　want　to　hear　you。”　he　left。
mary　went　to　where　helen　was　with　the　baby。　she　was　among　a　group　of　wives　and　babies。　they　were　all　laughing　and　talking　and　joggling　their　babies　about。　was　that　really　helen？　was　she　ill　or　something？　she　looked　thin；　and　even　ugly；　with　her　lumpy　nursing　breasts。　and　as　she　stood　looking　at　helen；　thinking；　but　that’s　not　what　helen　is　like；　she　thought　that　these　days　dmitri　seemed　to　her　a　fat　clumsy　man　with　a　red　swollen　drinker’s　face。　mary　went　to　join　the　group　and　saw　that　helen　was　not　moving　up　on　the　bench　to　make　room　for　her。　mary　pushed　her　way　in；　and　he